To Grip A Quill
by Grey Like Stormy Skies
Summary: “You know what I think, Evans?” “Don’t know, don’t particularly care, either.” “I think you’re gripping that quill so tightly because you don’t hate me half as much as people think you do.” [LilyJames oneshot]


**_To Grip A Quill_**

Eventually, everyone in this world comes to one realization—life isn't fair. For each individual it may be at a different time in a separate place, but the conclusion is always the same. We all blame an enemy, or a God, or that stupid next-door neighbor who went and nicked your trash bins—anything other than blaming ourselves. It's just easier that way. And when bad things happen, we just chalk them up to bad luck; because after all, this life we're living, well, we all know it's never fair.

You tried to be a good person; no one would ever deny you that. Most would say you succeeded at it, too—passed with flying colors, almost as bright as the ever changing polish you kept on the nails you always wanted to bite. You were always willing to lend a smile to someone who couldn't bear one themselves, and no matter what, you tried to stay optimistic. It didn't matter that terrible things seemed to always come your way—you believed that, somehow, everything would work out in the end. You believed that in order to get to the good stuff, you just had to deal with the bad first.

Without a doubt, he was your "good". And, if you matched up your life with your theory, it was only natural you hated him at first. And oh, how you hated him. By the time you were sixteen, even being in the same room with him was almost unbearable—just knowing that he was near you, somewhere, drove you mad, and gave you the strange impulse to hit something.

Everyone told you that your antics were ridiculous—really now, he wasn't that bad by half, and anyway he'd grown up so much since Fifth Year. But you couldn't see it; not till you were seventeen. You don't know what made you realize it, really; it might have been the loss of your parents that summer, or it might have just been that he was simply too _good_ to ignore anymore. Either way, all of a sudden, that boy was all you could see.

"Need help with that, Evans?"

"No Potter, believe it or not I am capable of recopying lists on my own."

"Ah, always jumping to conclusions, aren't you. I never doubted your capability; I was just curious as to if you would like company."

"I, well, I suppose…well. If you want to sit down, I guess I can't stop you."

"Excellent. Hmm, these chairs aren't as comfortable as expected…"

"Potter!"

"What? Admit it, you're more comfortable now."

"I didn't ask you to perform magic on the perfectly good chair I was sitting on, Potter."

"I know, isn't it wonderful? I read your mind, instead."

"Sure, Potter. Now be quiet, I need to finish these."

"Why're you writing so hard?"

"What are you talking about, my writing is perfectly normal."

"No, it's not, look how hard you're holding that quill. It's like you've got it in a death grip."

"You're hallucinating, Potter."

"You know what I think?"

"Don't know, don't particularly care, either."

"I think you're gripping that quill so tightly because you're thinking thoughts you don't want to be."

"And I think St. Mungo's has a free bed with your name on it."

"Are you telling me that there's nothing on your mind other than those lists you have there?"

"What else could a girl possibly think about, other than banned objects and patrolling schedules?"

"Oh, you're right. You've got the makings of a positively thrilling night right there. But that still doesn't explain why you're writing so forcefully."

"I am not, Potter."

"Yes you are! Look, right there, you just made a hole in the parchment."

"That's miniscule and insignificant, Potter. And was probably there before."

"So, is it me?"

"That's miniscule and insignificant?"

"That's on your mind I meant, but thanks for that."

"You said it, not me."

"Evans."

"Potter."

"Lily."

"…James."

"Was that so hard?"

"Go away."

"What are you doing for Christmas, Lily?"

"My sister's getting married, I've got to go home for it."

"Sounds…exciting?"

"Gag me."

"No thanks."

"Good, I'd've been insulted if you had actually done it."

"And rightfully so. That grip doesn't seem to be getting any looser."

"You're not going to let it go, are you."

"Course not, I'm James Potter."

"I know."

"You know what _I_ know?"

"What?"

"You don't hate me half as much as people think you do."

"Well what if I don't hate you at all?"

"Then many, many people would be losing bets right now, all over the school."

"I'm being serious, Pott…James."

"Sorry, I can't help it some times."

"Well, maybe you should just ask me something."

"Yeah, like what. What's your favorite color?"

"Green, but I meant a different question."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And do I know this question?"

"I'd say you're relatively familiar with it."

"Ah."

"Yeah…"

"Hey, Evans."

"Yeah, Potter?"

"Go out with me?"

"You know, that may be just what I need."

And now you know life's not fair, but this time, you're actually glad. Because even though you didn't do anything to deserve having him in your life, you know he'll always be there. So maybe you have some good luck after all.

* * *

A/N: If you recognize this, it's because it's reposted, so no worries… 

I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions, and would appreciate it greatly if you just took a minute to leave a review. Thanks!


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